


Ubiquitous Thoughts

by hiei700



Category: Free!
Genre: Gore, M/M, makeout scene, one-sided MomoTori
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:45:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2059809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiei700/pseuds/hiei700
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since Momotarou has moved in, Aiichirou finds that he can't hold back his urges much more.<br/>(Not a smut fic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ubiquitous Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> MY first time writing gore everybody   
> It's four AM right now so of course there may be some typos but meh.

Aiichirou Nitori, a boy of sixteen years, never considered himself insane before now. Sure, he had always been interested in splatter house horror movies, games, and stories, but there were quite a few teens that experienced this same attraction, and he was certain they didn't think like he did. 

Ways to kill.

Ways to murder.

Ways to torture.

Torture.

When he first had become apart of the horror genre, he began to notice how the most disturbing scenes rarely bothered him. Crimson blood painted on previously spotless, white walls looked less horrific and more angelic. Entrails glossed with a layer of liquid rose petals became a spectacle to examine closely for detail, rather than something to cringe at. Heart-halting screams of terror became something he could laugh jovially at. Everything around him turned into a weapon with the right imagination. 

But there were tons of people just like that, right?

They were sane, right?

Nitori was too—or at least he'd like to think he was—that is until his second year at Samezuka Accademy. 

 

It all started with the room change.

His new roommate, Momotarou Mikoshiba, was just like his older brother. Only he was smaller—more fragile. Not as sagacious—more vulnerable. Oblivious—an easy target.   
His giddy, outgoing nature made it easy for Nitori to hate him. He was akin to a ray of sunshine; he was what Nitori always wanted to be.   
He was a great swimmer already, given a nickname for his fame even; he was what Nitori always wanted to be.  
He was happy. He was always just so joyful (to the point where it was almost contagious); he was what Nitori always wanted to be.

Ai hated Momo vehemently, but at the same time, found him to be a good guy, and a great friend.

Aiichirou had never felt such strong urges before in his life.

He first picked up on the severity when he came back to the dorm after making up a test to find his roommate asleep on the bottom bunk. 

Nitori's bunk.

As disturbing as it seemed, he simply walked up to the side of the bed, looking down on the unwanted occupant. Ai took in the sight before him, truly closely looking at his underclassman for the first time. Momo was laying belly up on the bed, an arm strewn over his stomach, and the other thrown above his head. One leg was bent up, causing his hips to be slightly tilted, and the other was perfectly straight, a great mountain separating two seas of crisp, white bed sheet. He was wearing a colorful graphic tee-shirt with a pair of mesh, athletic shorts. His skin was tanned (even the small patch of stomach that his wrinkled shirt revealed). He had a small nose, and cat-like eyes, closed in a blissful slumber. Under his eyelids, Nitori knew two golden orbs resided. He was like a candle, Aiichirou decided. Warm, pleasant, and bright. His red, layered, wispy hair resembled a flickering flame as well. Finally his focus rested on the rise and fall of Momotarou's chest as he breathed at a calm pace. The fire was flickering and whipping around, almost silently at first, but Nitori looked to long into the flame; he became too centered on the sound of Momo's breathing. Suddenly the candle Ai saw in this boy burst into a roaring hellfire. Shadows of himself, of the bed frame, of the desks, and of ghosts and demons were thrown up against the walls of his mind. The crackling noise consumed his ears, and the bright light incinerated his eyes.

“Make it stop.” A voice in his head spoke. Aiichirou noticed that his hands were buried in his hair, eyes opened wide and tearing up at the sight of the calmly sleeping boy in front of him, his breaths like poison. “Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop.” 

It was no issue reaching up and grabbing the pillow from the top bunk. With fists clenched tightly around the edged of the white, feather-filled cushion, Ai looked down to the flame in his head with hatred. Whispers licked his ears, and temptation drew him to the young boy's face. He lifted the pillow, hovering it over the flames that continued to lick the air, over Momo's head. 

He would have done it too.

He would have suffocated his underclassman then and there.

But as Momo's luck had it, he had been stirred awake with the sound of desperate, panicked breathing. He blinked his eyes awake drowsily, only to have a pillow dropped onto his face. He nearly jumped out of bed, rolling onto the floor, landing ungracefully on his belly. He groaned and pushed himself off the ground, looking up to see his roommate. Nitori looked... unamused. Angry almost. His expression couldn't be placed, but his shaking was obvious. It was weird. Momotarou was... almost scared.

“M-my bunk.” Aiichirou sat on the mattress for emphasis.

Momo apologized and laughed it off, giving some excuse that didn't register at all with Nitori.

The grey-haired teen looked down at his hands, folded in his lap. 

The hands that almost killed not more than a minute ago.

This year wasn't going to be easy.

The thoughts became more frequent, almost daily, in fact. 

Nitori just grew to cope with them. 

The thoughts became more gruesome, utterly sickening, in fact.

Nitori just grew to cope with them. 

The more he tried to ignore them, the worse the thoughts became, but Aiichirou was convinced he could control himself. 

He began to make social gatherings a staple of his life. When other people were around, buzzing with talk and excitement, he could manage. He could handle the roar of the ocean of teens through the wildest parties, and had the smarts (and fear of being kicked off the swim team) to avoid alcohol and drugs. Nitori thought it a wonderful idea to join Rin on his morning jogs to avoid Momo, and often went out to dinner with the swim team after practice for the same reason. Yes, floods of people definitely helped him avoid his need to extinguish the flickering candle in his own room. The social suffocation seemed to last for quite awhile, only starting to fail when Momo began to attend every party he went to. Momotarou woke up extra early just to go on a morning jog with Ai and Rin. The little idiot even attended the after-practice meals. Egregious thoughts quickly began to swamp Nitori's mind yet again. 

On runs he's often thought of tripping him. Of watching and laughing as Momo falls and cracks his head open on the dusty, dull pavement. Nitori would relish in the thought of smashing the broken skull under his heel, listening to the beautiful snaps and cracks of the bones muffling the commensurately beautiful noise of the brain squishing on the sole of his shoe. A part of his mind often wondered if Rin would look at him, scared—horrified maybe. Ai wondered if he'd scream or run away. Possibly he would even hit Nitori in an attempt to help Momo. Focusing on Rin helped get his mind off Momo and the image of his bright red blood sinking into the little cracks on the stone walkway, a beautiful beautiful painting of bright red splattered on the hard, cherry blossom-covered path.

Parties weren't any better. Momo wasn't stupid, but he was certainly audacious. He would often force down somewhere around half a cup of whatever shitty alcohol was being served just to loosen himself up a bit. However, this miniscule change in attitude made him oh too vulnerable. The little redhead enjoyed flirting with girls, sure, but at an all boys' academy, on-campus women were impossible to find. When it was only a small-scale party, Momo instead used his time to rant about his social life or brag about his swimming and about what a ladies' man he was, and he always drank significantly more at these. His favorite thing, however, seemed to be to fall asleep everywhere. On the floor, on the couch, on tables, on people; anything. As his Senpai, it was Nitori's job to ensure he was safe throughout the festivities, and was often stuck with the job of dragging the first year back to their dorm. Luckily staff here was so sparse, sometimes it seemed like there was none at all. It would just be so easy to drag a half incoherent Momo into an unused supply closet and slit his throat and carve him up into little slices like meat for a sandwich. Nitori laughed the first time this thought ever occurred to him; he personally would never eat another human, but that didn't stop him from fantasizing of chopping his roommate up and throwing him on a silver platter. Maybe even sell it for a nice sum of money; after all, he had heard that monkey brains were a great delicacy. He could make broth with his bones and his fat, and serve gourmet dishes with his liver and tongue. His drunk breath was really pissing Nitori off anyway, the smell even more than the breathing itself. Most nights Momotarou was too drunk to climb the ladder to his bunk, so he'd have to let the boozed-up sack of an imminent hangover sleep on his bunk for the night, while he slept on top again, biting at his fingers and pinching the pale skin of his arms as he tried to repress every little idea that shot through his mind. 

Dinners with the team were by far the worst to get through. Finger food wasn't hard. Ai only thought continuously of different ways to get Momo to choke on his french fries or his burger. Actual restaurants, which they went to usually once a week, were terrible. He was surrounded by so many different utensils he could torture the annoying, flickering flame that always sat beside him with. He thought many times of stabbing him, slitting him up, cutting fine lines down his flesh and watching as the blood oozed out of he small ridges he had created on the tanned skin. Thought of squeezing a digit or two in the tiny valleys and ripping them wider and wider with his fingers. Thought of slicing open his belly and digging at his insides with a butter knife. Ripping his eyes out with a soup spoon, or even his bare hands. He loved the idea of stabbing him repeatedly with a fork. A dull, four-pegged instrument that would certainly hurt the troublesome little sea otter so very much. He could only imagine the pain brought on by the multiple teeth being forcefully pushed into his abdomen, the little pops muffled by Momo's shrill screams. He often tried talking to anyone but Momotarou, usually it helped, but other times he would have to excuse himself from the table and scamper off to the bathroom until he calmed down.

 

Nitori started staying at the dorm more.

Momo started staying at the dorm more.

Nitori would go out more.

Momo would go out more. 

Ai couldn't win here. 

The ubiquitous thoughts soon turned into nightly dreams. Sure, there were the regular gore scenes(live disembowelment and the like) and even a few scenarios where he picked up on a few things he'd seen in shows, movies, and games before (like driving nails into joints or chopping off limb after limb). Ai had a particular affinity to Chinese forms of torture. One of his favorites being the process of lobbing off as much flesh as possible before the victim died of blood loss. He had grown particularly fond of the idea of slowly pushing a tiny toothpick-like piece of bamboo between the nail and the soft skin below and watching as the sensitive, pink flesh separated from the hard, clear surface. The process would be repeated if any of the pesky skin tried to cling onto the nail, which would then be ripped out straight from the root. 

Nitori found the idea of Momo screaming and crying and begging for mercy and pleading for anything but the torture and pleading for death to be exhilarating.

All was still pretty normal, he just made sure to avoid Momotarou in the morning. 

That is, until he had a pretty vivid one that left him jumping out of bed and over to their desk, searching desperately for the nail clippers. Upon location of said objects, he had two thoughts run through his mind. A soft voice, his dwindling sanity, whispered harshly to toss them out. Another, course shrill screamed and laughed to use them. Use them just like he did in his dream. He ran a tongue over his upper lip, damp with a morning dew of sweat. When he turned around he saw his roommate with his limbs tossed over himself and the top bunk haphazardly. Momo was in a deep sleep, and even from across the room, Ai could clearly make out his breathing. Nitori's heart was beating at an abnormal speed and ferocity, and his hands were shaking. He bit into his bottom lip harshly and ripped off a layer of skin that was deeper than he expected, and cursed under his breath as he began to taste iron. The sharp pain seemed to bring him back to his senses, if only for a minute, and he scrambled to the large window in their dorm and let the shining, silver instrument drop into the bushes below. The sun barely peeked out over the mountains of lush, green trees, and a chilly breeze swept its way through the dorm, painted with a pink hue from the break of dawn. 

Ai returned to his bed, layed down, and rubbed his eyes until he saw spots. He slapped his cheeks and bit his knuckles and the joints of his fingers, and when that didn't work he grabbed clumps of his sweat-soaked hair and pulled until tears were brought to his eyes.

He decided to take a shower. A frigid, icy shower that left his lips purple, his skin pale, and his mind empty of anything except getting warm. He turned off the freezing flow without washing his body or his hair, and draped his towel over himself and curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor. 

He started to cry. It was a pathetic sight: Ai on laying on his side on the dirty, grey tiles, shaking and sobbing, while little whimpers, gasps, and shaky exhales left his mouth past his chattering teeth. He had his fluffy, blue towel wrapped tightly around himself, and even decided to cover up with Momo's towel as well. The hot tears streaming over the bridge of his nose and onto his left cheek almost burned in comparison with his frozen skin. His nose was running, and in between quieted wails, he sneezed, dragging his cheek across the floor each time, causing him to cry even more. 

I'm crazy, he thought to himself.

“I'm actually nuts,” he spoke, voice cracking and wavering. 

Thoughts once again swamped his mind. The dream playing over and over again in his head. There were some black spots in the beginning, but all Nitori remembered for clearly was that he had managed to not only knock out the redhead, but also tie his hands and feet to the four bed posts of the bottom bunk. He didn't know where he got the rope or why it seemed like they were the only two people in the entire school, no, on the entire world at that moment, but he did know that he wanted to see this little brat bleed. He recalled that he wandered around their room, searching around for something to use. He kept thinking he heard crying, but when he turned to Momo, he was still passed out.  
Eventually Nitori started to slide open the drawers of his desk. The first one held a revolver. Somehow Ai found this completely unusable. He shut the top drawer and opened the second. A kitchen knife, with a serrated, shimmering blade lay inside. He dusted his hand over the black handle and paused before shutting that drawer as well. Lucky number 3 had only a pair of silver nail clippers, smudged with finger prints.   
They were perfect.  
He walked back over to the bed and lifted the top piece of metal, twisting it around and then flipping it back. It stayed suspended, and Nitori pushed it down. The mouth of the clippers shut. Nitori felt himself say “sharp” before he flipped around the extra attachment only found on the more expensive pairs. A mini nail file, which had been previously resting on top of the second piece of metal, flipped out. It was nothing special, just a small section of iron file with a hook at the end that was used to fish out gunk from under your nails. Ai ran the crisscrossed pattern across his finger tips and felt himself say “dull.”  
He began to rub the little file on Momo's belly (the red head was only wearing a pair of mesh shorts). Momotarou stirred and groaned. Ai continued until he heard his roommate let out a little laugh. The first year tugged languidly at each of his limbs, squeezing his eyes together tightly before opening them completely. It took him a few seconds to process his situation, but as soon as he did, he began tugging desperately at his restraints, bending his knees as much as he could—i.e. hardly at all—and yanking his wrists closer to himself, crashing them roughly against the coarse rope.  
“Nitori-Senpai, what's going on? Nitori-Senpai, Nitori-Senpai.” He was panicking. His breaths were quick and shallow and his eyes were darting every which way.   
Ai struck him across the face.  
Momo began to cry.   
It was beautiful; the second year's face split into a giant grin. “Bleed for me Momo-kun,” he purred, flipping the file back to laying on the clippers, and turning the clippers around so that their blades softly kissed the skin around his underclassman's ribs. A pallor sunk into Momotarou's face and the tears continued to spill out.  
“Pl-Please don't Nitori-Senpai.”   
Ai smirked.  
“St-Stop please, Nitori-Senpai.”  
Ai picked a spot on his stomach.  
“N-Nitori-Senpai...”  
Ai snapped the mouth closed,  
The clippers snipped away a small chunk of Momo's flesh.   
The redhead went rigid, his mouth agape and his eyes drowning. He started to tremble even more as his silent scream found a voice, and he sounded out in a gorgeous scream.   
Ai smiled and snipped again at the wall of the tiny gap he created, the little hole beginning to fill and spill over with the lava of this candle's veins.  
The smell was intoxicating as he continued to cover Momo's skin in red.   
Snip  
Snip   
Snip  
The screams were delicious. Indescribable. They made Ai shudder and laugh and eventually he plunged his index finger in the now maroon-colored, dime-sized gap he had made and dug around. The salt from his hands burned, and Momo just wanted to pain to stop. His body started to shut down, and everything looked fuzzy.  
Then Nitori slapped him again and the situation instantly crashed onto him like a pickup truck.  
He screeched and thrashed and cried. His wrists were already bright pink from rope burn. He sobbed and wailed and eventually Ai stopped playing in the little puddle of crimson he had created on Momo's stomach. Instead he smiled and trailed a bloody digit up his roommate's stomach and neck, resting it on his lips, currently closed in a repressed shout.  
“You're getting me dirty, Momo-kun.” He smiled so sweetly and innocently, and his voice held no malice.  
He looked down to Momo's abdomen and dipped his hand back into the pool before shoving them down his victim's throat.   
The first year choked and dry heaved, and Nitori giggled.  
“How does it taste, Momo-kun~?” He pulled out his fingers and Momotarou coughed and sputtered and spat and sobbed. Ai was content in the bloody spit trails leading from the corners of Momo's lips so he returned back to clipping away little chunks of flesh here and there, watching in wonder as they quickly formed into little volcanoes, spilling over and sliding their molten contents down onto the sheets, soaking them a fantastic ruby color.  
“You're so beautiful Momo-kun~.” He choked out another scream, his heart beating in his ears as Nitori cut a chunk out of the wall of his belly button.   
It hurt.  
Ai laughed again before cooing at the bloody clippers in his hand. He flipped out the nail file again and positioned the end in a miscellaneous gap he had created, delving it in and relishing in the pained screams his roommate made.   
It felt so good to just release every one of his feelings out on another person. He couldn't be ignored now. He couldn't fail at this. He found something he was positively great at.  
Several snips and pints of blood lost later, Momo had stopped screaming. His throat was dry and so were his eyes. Dried tears had left salty lines down his cheeks. He just looked up at the bottom of the top bunk and thought as his vision turned fuzzy.   
He wasn't turning back to normal no matter how many times Nitori slapped him. He face was bloodied with hand prints by the time Ai decided to give up on getting any other noise out of him. Instead Nitori bent over and began to lap up the blood from the multiple wounds he had created.   
It felt weird, but then again, Momo could barely feel anything correctly.  
He couldn't move anymore, and his thoughts were choppy and nonsensical. He faitly recognized blood running down his arms the little pools at his wrists. His ankles were in a similar predicament.  
He heard a slurping, and realized that Nitori was sucking up his blood like some kind of vampire, but couldn't find anything in him that cared. He glanced to the side when he no longer felt anything on his chest, and Ai was there, wiping at his mouth with his wrist, only leaving a larger stain of scarlet on his face.  
Nitori was thrilled. Momo's blood tasted amazing. It wasn't like when you were little and sucked at a paper cut, cringing at the flavor. No, this was a completely different experience, and he loved it. It tasted of nosebleeds that leaked down your throat and somehow had a peach-like tang, and Ai could barely stop himself from drinking more and more. However, he felt it would only be right to watch Momotarou's actual passing instead of feasting on the blood of his dead body.   
They made eye contact.  
Momo looked like he had just been trough hell.   
He had been.  
Nitori leaned over and wiped at the tear trails with his thumb.  
His underclassman watched him motionlessly and emotionless.   
His mouth opened.  
He croaked out a word: “Why?” and Nitori quickly realized he didn't have a reason.  
“...Fun.” He nodded to himself and Momo closed his eyes, slightly moving his head up and back down in return. There were new tears staining Momo's cheek, laying on top of a thick layer of dried blood, but the teen had already passed away, so it wasn't him crying.  
And that's when Ai woke up.

 

Nitori decided that he just needed to change rooms. He could ask Rin; the captain had that kind of power after all. Not to mention Samezuka's shark (he hoped at least) had a soft spot for him. The only problem was that he needed a good reason to move out, and he wasn't about to admit to his sick, twisted fantasies to his captain. Instead, he chose to lightly bring up the topic to his underclassman, figuring he would be understanding.

It was a stormy yet warm day, and the excess humidity made it feel like the middle of August. It was a weekend, however, so the students were allowed to sit in front of an AC and try not to bake all day. Momo and Ai were no exception; Nitori was in the shortest pair of shorts he owned and a muscle shirt, while Momotarou decided to wear boxers and nothing else. Ai had sat the first year down with him on the bottom bunk and started to explain himself, only... it wasn't completely the truth. Sure enough, Momo was pretty understanding but... he didn't react like Nitori wanted.

“Lately I've been thinking that... maybe we shouldn't be in the same room.” A frown from his underclassman showed that Ai wasn't going to win this easily. He covered Momotarou's mouth, seeing that the redhead was about to burst out in a series of rants. “Let me explain myself.” Momo kept quiet. “I need to tell you that...” Nitori trailed off, keeping silent before taking a deep breath. He had practiced this confession several times but it never got any easier to tell someone. “That I'm gay.” His cheeks burned because that much was true, and he looked down at his half-bare lap in embarrassment. Before he was able to continue, Momo tried to interject.  
“I don't care what y-”  
“Shh!” Ai was looking the other in the eye, his hand covering the younger's mouth again, and sighed. “Let me finish.” Here's where the two years of drama class came in. He lowered his hand along with his gaze and twiddled his thumbs, shifting his legs awkwardly and stuttering out a few noises before actually speaking, hoping he seemed convincing. “I-It's just that... I... I really... I like you a lot... But I know you're not-” he stopped talking when Momo suddenly grabbed both of his hands. Nitori shot his head back up and saw an excited, teary-eyed face.   
“No, that's perfect Nitori-senpai! I like you like that too!” There wasn't a hint of shame or embarrassment, only pure joy and excitement.   
Shit Nitori mentally cursed and gave his roommate and bewildered look.   
“I-It's not nice to joke with my heart like that. I know you're st-straight.” He didn't have to fake his voice cracking. He was terrified. There was no way this guy was into guys.  
“Well, I do like girls,” Momo grinned, “but I like boys too!”  
Damn you, bisexuality.  
“So if you don't mind...” The redhead blushed but his big, goofy smile didn't falter. “I want to stay in the same room as you.”   
Ai just looked up to his underclassman with the stupidest expression imaginable. His mind was swimming with too many thoughts. His plan not only crashed and burned, but backfired with a vengeance. He just did something fifty times worse than leading Momo on; he gave him a completely false confession. “I... I don't know what to say. I... I can't... I mean you don't have to act like you like me. I know I'm not very likeable, and I can be really annoying sometimes. Really I'm not the best per-” To top it all off, this big goofy sea otter was as cliched as they came, and had cut Nitori off with a kiss; Ai's first kiss to be exact.

His mouth felt like being burnt off. His skin was being charred. It was as if his blood was made of pure kerosine, and Momotarou was still the vicious candle setting Nitori ablaze.   
Momo's hands were sticky with sweat as he squeezed Ai's palms, silently reassuring the boy. He finally pulled away, slowly opening his eyes to gaze into Nitori's, moving a single hand up to cup his cheek.  
“Don't talk about yourself like that.” Momo was breathing right on his lips. He was breathing right on him. He was breathing. The voices returned once again, like a orchestra of demons, playing his muscles like instruments. There were so many by now. They merely had to whisper to cause a roar in Nitori's heart. It was impossible to fight them anymore. Momotarou was right there. So close, so fragile, so tempting. “Now, are you o-” Ai crashed their lips together again, much to his underclassman's surprise. He dug a set of fingers into the flaming, rust-colored hair, his other hand leaving Momo's to rest on his shoulder instead. The redhead decided not to question it, and returned the kiss just as enthusiastically. Nitori decided that their position was too awkward: sitting side by side, angling their bodies towards each other to keep their connection.   
He changed it.  
The second year stood, and, as a result, broke the kiss. Momo gave him a genuinely confused look, which immediately turned into shock as Ai found a new seat on his lap. His face turned bright red and his body was rigid.  
“N-Nitori-Senpai y-you shouldn't-”  
“I want to.” He connected their lips once more and laid his hands on Momotarou's bare, tanned chest. Sweat slid down Momo's back, and his mind was going a thousand miles per minute.  
Ai could tell he was tense, which wouldn't help his plan at all, so he decided to keep working on getting his underclassman to relax. He honestly had no experience in this department, so he resorted to his knowledge of make out scenes from the porn novels he used to read all the time. The demons in his head eased him into the process, and his hands slid up and down Momotarou's chest as he tilted his head to the side, pushing their lips closer together.

Momo was freaking out because holy shit this cute guy he'd been trying to get close to the last few weeks was right on his lap, and- holy shit Ai just licked his lips.

Nitori nibbled a little on Momotarou's bottom lip until the guy took the hint and opened up. For all this talk about picking up chicks, Ai wasn't seeing any kind of semblance of experience here. He slipped his tongue in Momo's mouth and nudged it up against his roommate's own. The redhead produced a moan, muffled by the kiss, and Nitori began to pinch and rub at his underclassman's nipples. The pleasured noises continued and Momo finally rested his hands on Ai's lower back. It was starting to work. 

Momotarou's heart was beating so fast and so hard; his brain was filled with a buzzing that made his hair stand on end.   
Holy   
Fucking  
Shit  
His new boyfriend was a natural born porn star.  
In fact, he was the one that had to break the kiss, breathing heavily and flicking his gaze between Ai's half-lidded, lusty eyes and the bowed string of saliva connecting them. Then Nitori swished his tongue over his lips, tugging at and busting the little, clear thread without breaking his gaze in Momo's eyes, and oh fuck here he thought Nitori was a virgin.

Ai lowered his head until he was at Momo's jaw, kissing along it with wet lips. He pecked Momotarou's chin before placing a kiss on the boy's distinct Adam's apple. He ran his tongue down his neck and into the dip between his collarbones. The first year let out a quiet moan, and yep he was definitely a virgin, the liar. Nitori left little kisses along the clavicles before nibbling on one, drawing out another moan from the redhead. 

Momo couldn't help but to make little noises; he was terribly hopeless at stifling them. He pulled Nitori's body even closer to his and hell no he wasn't going to let himself get hard from this little makeout session. He wasn't nearly that bad. 

Nitori blew on the shining skin of Momotarou's neck before raising his head once more to plant another kiss on Momo's lips. He slid his hands up to his underclassman's shoulders, pushing him back on the bed with a muffled “oomf” from both parties.

Holy fuck Momo was going to get laid before he even had the first date with his new boyfriend. There is a God.   
He gripped the hem of Nitori's shirt and began to tug it upwards, eager to get Ai shirtless and sweaty too. Nitori let his t-shirt be slipped over his head and up his arms, and God he was beautiful.

Ai, meanwhile, saw this as the perfect opportunity. As soon as the shirt was gone he used one hand to grab Momo's wrists and hold them together. The other was slid onto Momotarou's neck, and Ai began to squeeze. It seemed to shock Momo at first, and then instinct kicked in and the redhead was thrashing around violently. Nitori wasn't letting him break the kiss, so that he couldn't scream for help. It wasn't easy, especially since the first year wasn't taking kindly to being strangled, but Ai was absolutely elated. The candle was flickering; the light was fading, and through a mess of tongue and muffled shouts and teeth mashing together, he smiled. His sick sense of joy only lasted so long, however, because Momo had jerked the left side of his body up all at once, and Nitori lost balance and tumbled off, hitting his head on the metal post of the bed. He was knocked out cold, the last thing he heard being Momotarou choking and gasping for air.  
The candle was trying to be a roaring flame once more.

 

Nitori didn't know what he expected to wake up to, but it definitely wasn't absolutely everything normal. The birds were chirping excitedly outside, and he was laying in the bottom bunk, staring up at Momo's. Another dream? But this one felt so real...   
He groaned and sat up, an icepack landing on his chest and rolling down his stomach.   
Ai was confused.  
He picked it back up and placed it on a throbbing spot of his head.  
Ai was bewildered.  
Then Momotarou poked his head down from the top bunk, a half-hearted smile on his lips.  
He spoke in a hushed tone.  
“Hey, Senpai, are you feeling okay?”   
Nitori just blinked.  
“I ran the room change idea by Captain. Hr said that I can share a room with some kid who got lucky enough to not have a roommate. Guess his luck just ran out.” He gave a tired laugh and Ai furrowed his brows in confusion.  
“I tried to kill you.” I sounded like more of a question than a statement and Momo just laughed.  
“I'm sure you have your reasons Nitori-Senpai. I forgive you. Ah, but,” he sighed, “I don't think our relationship will work out that well... unless you want to give it another try?”  
Nitori groaned and laid back down, screwing his eyes shut and sighing.

Momotarou Mikoshiba was an extremely odd and unique person, Aiichirou decided.

But he still wanted to kill him.


End file.
